Butties
by abby-normal 2448
Summary: There was so much potential for the story arc concerning Joanna, Mike's booty-call buddy, but the movie didn't really expand on their history. I just hope to fill in a couple holes, and maybe continue on with their complicated relationship. Rated T for tasteful fornication references.
1. Chapter 1

**While I'm not normally one to write present-day stories, Joanna seemed like too cool of a character to pass up...as well as the world of Magic Mike...**

She was laughing it up with her fiancée. God, it was wonderful to associate him with that word…he grinned cheekily as he sipped his beer. Yes, he _sipped_ it. But she didn't mind, because she respected him, knew he could handle himself; come to think of it he could handle just about everything. The restaurant's milieu only added to his natural charm and she gazed at the metal band on that oh-so-special finger. No, not the middle one…although that had its uses as well.

"Hey babe, so how about we tackle that trail by the waterside tomorrow? I've got half the day off thanks to Joel."

"Who's he again? The buff cute guy, or the buff hot guy?"

"Duh, it's the one you're having an affair with." He winked at her just then, thinking he was joking. Her guilt began the slow ascent in her stomach. There was no awkward silence, not like the first time he'd made a similar joke. Luckily she'd been quick enough to laugh it off that first time, and now it was just second nature to pass over those comments, to hope he had no idea. A hand running through her hair, a laugh offered up, the usual suppression techniques. They worked just fine…as usual.

It wasn't like she didn't care about his feelings. He meant a lot to her, but sometimes there were some….needs that required fulfillment. She drank some wine. The liquid sloshed smoothly down the back of her throat before kicking its way back up when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, what're you doing here?"

Oh. My. God. No, please don't be-

Yes it was. He stood there, all goofy smile and unknowing eyes. He caught sight of her fiancée. God, she _hated_ associating him with that word…now it was a confused grin plastered across that charming face.

She introduced Mike and then her fiancée introduced himself. No, please don't let your face fall like that….please keep smiling….please, Mike….

Her fiancée left.

And now it was just the two of them. The sex-buddies. The call-you-up-for-you-know-what-ers. The closeted-when-it-mattered bisexual and the male stripper. The….acquaintances? Friends? Lovers? No, lover was saved for her and her fiancée. Mike did not cross that boundary.

They talked briefly. Actually, they didn't talk. She disappointed as he tried to hide under that grimace of macho-ality. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Glasses clinked, the warm ambiance of the place intensified the heat of couples at neighboring tables, neo-jazz-funk infiltrated the pores of every listener. And here she was "breaking up" with a guy who had no right to make her feel guilty, no right to play with her emotions like this. He knew it too.

When did this become so complicated?

Oh yeah.

* * *

Sheila slept at her side, Latina curves and all. Ha! She remembered her name this time…probably because she was cuter than usual…Mike did a good job picking her. He was really getting in tune with her wants, and she with his. Red-lighted numbers flashed in her periphery, and lazy eyes found the time: 5:28 a.m.

Hm. She could either lie in bed with a complete stranger for the next hour and a half or snoop around his place. The latter was definitely more interesting. She rolled out of bed, threw on a loosely buttoned dress-shirt and panties, slipped into the corridors of his domain.

No family pictures on a table in the foyer or hanging on walls or anywhere, really. But there was a lot of junk. Not the kind strewn about carelessly, but the kind where everything had its rightful place for use in the future. She found an apple on the counter. Took a bite, sat on a barstool, took in the room. It was beachy, but with a modernist perspective. Funny, Mike didn't seem like the kind of guy to really pay attention to that stuff….

"Hey, what's up?"

She pretended her heart didn't just leap into her throat from surprise. Turned casually. "Oh, just checking out what I can fit into my car…I think I'll take this stool for starters, then make off with the Xbox."

"You're funny." Deadpan followed by a slight curl in the lips. Classic Mike.

"I try. Sometimes."

"Yeah well, you should try more often." Oh boy. Were they actually establishing a viable conversation that could be recalled at later dates as a fun-filled hour of bonding? She couldn't let it happen. She had commitments.

"Uh, I think I'll actually head out now. Can I take this apple?" She stood. He walked over.

"What, no round two with…...Goddamn…"

"Sheila."

"Right. Yeah. Sheila."

"I'll pass…..where did you throw my pants?"

"I think Sheila was the one who….no, wait….yeah, it was Sheila who threw them off the loft."

"I'm just gonna fetch those then…"

"Are you sure you don't want anything to drink? I can make smoothies or something…" Shoot, he was actually _trying_ to force her into a conversation of some sort. And breakfast? This guy was acting as if he was really new to the booty-call concept. She declined to accept his smoothie offer, opting to search for her pants instead. They were crumpled beneath a side table, and she slipped them on. She felt him watching her. And then it became that awkward moment when she couldn't put her pants on correctly without hopping around like a toddler.

"You need some help, Jo?"

"Sure, how about you smack my patootie as I walk out, ensuring that everything's on all snug?"

"Ouch, girl, why so sassy? And patootie...wow." He was still smiling. This kid's optimism, while refreshing, was the probable cause of her "sass."

"Well, normally what happens is I call you or you call me, we have sex, and then I leave. But for some reason, your little pebble of a brain wants to take this set-up further, possibly to the point where we're staying up after the sex and chatting like tweens at a sleepover. So now I'm wondering, do you need a refresher of the ground rules?"

"Well, Joel said you were chatty, and I figured it would be nice to actually get to know who I'm banging….you know, find out if you have STD's or if you're a serial killer or something." Humorous. She'd give him that.

"Alright. Fine. I'll let you slide this once-" She found her shoes. "-but next time, if you try to start a conversation I'll just leave."

"A'ight. I got you." He held the door open as she grabbed the remnants of the apple and strode out.

He did a quick salute-wave combo. "See you soon."

She had to laugh at that comment and his waving maneuver. "Ha….Bye." Maybe it wasn't too bad to talk a bit, if only to keep herself entertained the morning after.

* * *

Watching him walk out of the restaurant was more than a little sad. In fact, she was a little scared he'd do something stupid…there was just this look he had when he turned away…

Her fiancée returned, all charm.

"What was that about, babe?"

"Just a friend….I guess I forgot to tell him about the engagement…"

* * *

He didn't know she knew about his job. It was after their sixth "session" that her friends convinced her to go to this club on 6th avenue where they would all have a "rockin' time."…she really needed new friends. The entrance was cheesy as hell, but she gave her friends the benefit of the doubt and stepped into a room of booming music and sweaty bodies. Everyone was screaming and it didn't take long for her to realize why. A guy was stripping on a low stage, tearing clothes off while simultaneously humping the ground. Just the sight began the quick cycle of horniness. The stripper moved perfectly with the music, swaying his hips, sweat glistening on perfect shoulders, pecs flexing, cash falling from his underwear band.

While Jo put on a mask of disapproval, she had to admit, it did turn her on a bit. She wasn't _that_ high-brow where she couldn't enjoy herself a couple strippers. Heck, she'd hired some for her roommate in college. Of course, they were female strippers back then…this male stripping thing was completely new to her. The announcer called out another name. Jo immediately froze. A hoodied white boy sauntered on stage, nodding his head to the beat…..and then he ripped everything off as his body went crazy. Smooth. Very smooth. Just like at his place….

God he was sexy. She fumbled through her purse, searching for her phone. The routine ended, and immediately she called the number. He picked up, breathless.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mike….how about my place in thirty?"

"Uh, actually, I'm working….I can do in three hours though." Too long. She was horny now.

"How about I meet you somewhere on your break?" Please say yes. Images of his pelvis and his perfectly rotund backside flashed before her eyes.

"You know what, I'll just meet you at your place now. I can get someone to cover for me."

That night she enjoyed him all to herself, not even bothering to call…..whats-her-face….Damn she forgot the name...

The next morning, she didn't mind staying a little longer, trying to figure out more about this easygoing guy who commanded the stage.

* * *

**Yep. We'll see if I feel like continuing. Reviews/criticism are always welcome (especially criticism, please) :]**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to those who reviewed, I'm starting to get a bit more interested in the characters now that I've had more time to sort my thoughts on this story...**

* * *

He spotted Jo sidling over. "Hey, I didn't expect to see you here." He was surprised and, he admitted to himself, glad she was there to liven up the party. He introduced her to Brooke but kept his relationship to both women under wraps…..didn't know why he did that. Oh wait, it was because he didn't want to seem like the tool who used women for sex. Didn't want to explain that it was mutual. Or that he enjoyed far more than the sex.

He went to get some beers, leaving the two women behind. The breeze was nice, offsetting the humidity. No one else was really around the coolers, too busy prepping the pontoon.

But then there was a tap on his shoulder, breaking the solitude.

"You didn't think you could leave that quickly, did you?" Okay. That was just a little unexpected. But she didn't have to know that.

*grin* "Naw, course not. What's up?"

"I was just thinking of doing something tomorrow…your place?" That was a little too quick.

"You know, normally a conversation starts with 'I'm doing fine, and you?' and then we talk about the states of our lives, and then about something controversial like politics, and then about how much we hate the people here, and then food, and _then_ we settle on sleeping with each other. At least, that's how I talk to my bros." Followed by a wink, he knew he could get a reaction out of her.

A slight frown. "Something wrong? You seem a little on edge, even though you look like you should be completely relaxed."

"What do you mean by look? I'm good." What in the hell was she talking about…? Maybe he shouldn't have gotten her worked up…

"Well look at you. You're at a party with a girl, who is _very_ cute I gotta say, you're wearing beach-y swim trunks, you've got two beers, and you're surrounded by cool people, aka me. But for some reason, you jump on me when I ask about our mutual craving."

"Hey, I'm not a sex demon if that's what you're saying…..and you noticed the trunks? I picked them out myself."

"Did you know your defense mechanism is humor?"

"Yes."

"And that it's infuriating?"

"I hope so." Damn the way that sarong hugged her hips. She may not be as naked as the other girls there, but she definitely had an edge over them….she allowed more for the imagination. Distracting. She paused for a good ten seconds. He looked over to where Brooke sat. He had to admit, Jo was right about his craving for sex….but not to the point where he couldn't have a decent conversation without bringing it up.

"God, you would think I could deal with you…." She shook her fedora-ed head and chuckled half-heartedly at the ground.

"Maybe if we started this day over you could invent a way to handle me. Hi Jo! I didn't expect to see you here."

She smiled then. And it was gorgeous. "Hey Mike…So how about that presidential campaign?"

* * *

The little things made her different. Not just the forever-reprimanding tone, the non-legginess, the unstyled medium-length hair, or even the insistence to always be on top. Granted, not all her differences were positive…but a good amount were.

He watched lazily as she got dressed. Ironically, this was his favorite part of the post-session ritual. Not the too-short conversations, or the mini-meals in the kitchen, or the goodbyes with promises of more to come. The way a girl put on her clothes showed her character more than anything else. This was ironic seeing as how Mike took his off for a living….but that showed his character as well….and lots of it ;)

There were the girls who would shamefully sneak into the bathroom when they thought he was asleep, either new to the one-night stands or uncomfortable with their bodies once off the sex-high. Others slinkily slipped into tight jeans and tanks, more than hinting they wanted more. And still others threw on whatever they could find on the floor and skipped out like it was all in a day's work. Jo was basically the embodiment of the latter. Only when he stopped her with conversation or forced her to eat some fruit did she stay longer than necessary. He didn't get it. She was the most constant "buddy" he'd had since…ever…and yet he knew practically nothing about her. And it wasn't like he didn't try. He tried like it was his job. Because her droll sense of humor was refreshing from the screaming fangirls. Because while not drop-dead stunning she had an attitude to smack him around whenever she felt like it. Because she was, no matter how she opposed it, his friend.

"I haven't seen Vanessa around in a while."

She looked up from putting on sandals, blowing hair out of her face. "You didn't know she got herself a man?"

"Seriously? Bro, no one ever tells me anything 'bout their relationships."

"Hmph. Do I _look_ like a bro to you?" A skeptical smile as she sat on the edge of the bed. He was still nude, "airing out."

She unbuttoned her collared shirt to expose herself. "Do _these_ look like they'd belong to a bro? I'm offended." She buttoned back up, grinned, and proceeded to the kitchen.

He called out as she opened the fridge. "Not your boobs, girl…it was the grunting that threw me off-" He heard her scoff, then continued "-How'd you find out about Vanessa anyway?"

"I called and her husband answered."

"Damn that was quick...makes you wonder about your own relationships." Oops. He covered his face with both hands, trying to wipe away the drowsiness, prepping for the barrage of "ground rules" to be repeated yet again. Second time that month. He was getting worse at watching what he said around her. At getting too close.

Movement ceased in the kitchen. He heard her set a bowl, probably filled with cereal (no milk), down on the counter. She stepped in, stopped at the doorframe and leaned against it, one hand on her hip. Laid her head on the frame. Sighed. "Mike, you know we don't talk about that stuff."

"Yeah yeah….I gotchu." He stood and put on a pair of briefs.

She Jerked her thumb in the direction of the front door. "I think I'm just gonna go. I'll see you around, alright?"

"Wait, hold up. You've still got cereal sitting there. And you know I don't eat that stuff. It's for all guests only."

Oh boy. Now she was really going to lay in on him, he could see it in the way she positioned herself, now both hands on the hips, legs shoulder-length apart, eyebrows set low.

"Tell me something, Mike. If it's for all guests, how come I'm the only one who eats it?…Why is it my favorite brand of cereal? Why is it in the cabinet for your stuff only?"

"I'm impressed you know that's my personal cabinet. You must swing by here often." Try to put her at ease. Calm her down.

"Stop it." That's it. She had no right, especially in his Goddamn house.

"No, you stop. You're a great person, but I can't stand this. I know we have rules, but can't we just be friends? You've got to admit you like visiting my place for more than the sex. My boyish good looks mixed with my charisma have gotta work on you somehow, or else you would've found another boy toy by now, considering all the mistakes I've made and all the lines I've crossed."

The silence after was more than a little awkward. She sized him up then, taking in his steady gaze. He inwardly commended her for keeping eye contact as opposed to letting her eyes wander. He commended himself for doing the same.

"Fine." Woah. That was a first.

She took powerful strides over to him and pushed him back onto the bed. "But let's make this last time good, 'cause I'm going to miss this body once we become real friends."

"Huh?-" She kissed him angrily, found the band of his briefs with her thumb. Climbed on top of him.

"Wait-"

"What? Don't you want to be 'friends'?" His briefs were slipping off.

"Hey, stop." He shoved her off, rolled on top of her, pinned her down. "Let me clarify…..friends with benefits. This won't be our 'last time'." She was breathing heavily….and then a smile at his phrase-change, a raised eyebrow.

"As you wish." She glanced down his body length. "Someone else likes our little understanding too."

He gave her the signature grin combined with the almost-squinted eyes (his smolder). This time he was the one to take the clothes off.

* * *

**Let me know when cheesiness starts to be an issue...and til then, please review and critique!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Troubled emotions are always fun to write...Enjoy.**

* * *

Jo read the text again as she pulled into the driveway.

'We need to talk.'

The screen glowed just enough for her to discern the message without turning on the car's lights. She was impressed Mike didn't resort to shorthand when texting…she would've assumed he had a limited plan…but then again, his income was substantial enough to-God, why was she even analyzing his texting technique/phone-plan status? …she was guilty and nervous as hell. She shouldn't have even agreed to meet at _his_ place…it gave him too much power, no matter how many times she'd been there.

And she'd been there a lot.

She turned off the car. Sat for a while. Readied herself for the inevitably terrible confrontation and explanation. No number of years in school could prep her for hurting Mike like she was about to hurt him. She was the one training to help people deal with pain in their lives, for God's sake.

But wait. It was his fault, remember? They'd established at the very beginning how their relationship was supposed to go. No emotions. Maybe a sarcastic comment here and there, but no bonding…..at least until they became friends. Then there was the good, long "session" right after…

Shake it off. Look at the ring. The beautiful rock-on-silver. Reassurance achieved. Confidence back. She was in control. She reminded herself that he brought it all upon himself, making her open up, exposing his own thoughts….

* * *

He opened the door she'd unlocked especially for him, walked through the house until he found her in the living room. She stood as he approached.

"That was qui-"

He cut her off with a look and she halted. Something was up.

"Mike? What's wrong."

"Nothing, let's just get at it." He ripped off his tie and started fumbling with the buttons at his collar. But then he changed his mind and went to her instead, crushing her mouth in a painful lip-lock. Her mind went into panic mode. This was not what she'd called for, and right now this was not consensual. At all. Mike was a big guy…..she couldn't possibly push him off…

He sensed her anxiety. Stopped. She pushed him away as forcefully as she could.

"Hey, you wanna do this or what!?"

"No, not if you're going to be an ass."

He shook his head, frustrated, disgusted.

"I don't know what you're talking about…..fine, y'know what? I'm outta here." He reached for his tie. Wait, his tie….oh no…she should've realized…

"Mike….hold on." She reached out to him even as her mind screamed not to get involved. He took a deep breath and leveled his dull gaze with her insistent one.

"Do you…want to talk…?" He shook his head in resignation and turned away. Shoot, that wasn't the right thing to say. He'd probably heard that already from everyone else that day.

"Sorry, let me rephrase. Sit your butt down."

He faced her again, but was still so angry. God, what happened at the bank?

"Hey, if you thought you could come into my house and just expect to have your way with me, you thought wrong. Now look, here's a comfy couch you hardass….sit." Like a dog he obeyed, slumping into the cushions, eventually leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, staring at nothing. She sighed and went to the kitchen, filled two glasses with water. She assumed he'd already had his fair share of alcohol…or drugs…or both. Made her way back to the living room with the two glasses. This was not what she'd had in mind when she texted him to come over. She set the glasses on the coffee table and curled up opposite him on the armchair.

"Jo, I'm not gonna waste any more of your time. I've got Joel and Sheila on speed-dial if you want me to call them up." How she wanted him to call those numbers and get out of her house, but…

"….No. Tell me what happened at the bank." She hoped this was the right choice. He picked up a glass and stared into the water, struggling with what he wanted to say.

"Naw it's not just that…it's…The Kid and Brooke and….God, life is just kicking me in the balls."

Shoot. Of course he had to choose now to feel sorry for himself. What Mike didn't know was that she had texted him to come over so they could have their last fling before she told him about her all-too-new engagement. Of course now she couldn't tell him.

"Well…it's gonna take a bigger kick to get those balls to respond...trust me, I know." Hopefully a response…

He downed the glass of water. Sat up straight.

"Yeah well...I guess you weren't really expecting this, huh?" Gave her a sorry smile, like a sad puppy. She was going to do it. She had to. Or else "friends" would just be a title, and she couldn't deal with that.

"It's…fine. Really, it is. Talk to me."

He did. Shared his story of the day, of the prim woman who had to tell him, yet again, that the kickstart to his dream was "not quite ready yet." Shared his story of his career, how he got into dancing as a kid and how that eventually turned into stripping once Dallas got mixed in. Shared his story of The Kid, how he felt like he'd messed up a life, been too quick to judge the potential in The Kid's character. And Jo sat and listened, eventually moseying over to the couch and sitting next to him…comforting when necessary…inserting biting remarks here and there…it was two hours of what would normally be twenty seconds of a rom-com.

And then he asked her a few questions. She steeled herself for it, but after two hours of breaking down her defenses, he had her where he wanted her. She answered questions, tersely at first…and then with ease. Another hour.

He stood, knew it was time to go. They didn't know what to do then. A handshake? A pat on the back? A hug?

He half-saluted with a grin. She threw his tie at him. He walked out the door. She watched him leave.

They were sober the entire time. And she had broken so many rules.

Now it was complicated.

* * *

She knocked on the door, hoped he wouldn't answer.

"It's unlocked!"

Found him in the kitchen pouring juice. She hated juice. Just another thing to hate about the situation.

He didn't look up as he sipped it. Yes. He sipped it. How ironic.

"So…how long you two been engaged? It should be common knowledge, but you know, no one ever tells me 'bout their relationships."

"Maybe around three to four months…."

He looked perplexed for an instant before concluding, "And we've been seeing each other for about a year…including the past three to four months."

"I'm surprised you kept track." His look hardened, not the response she was looking for.

"I'm surprised you didn't tell me a couple months ago."

Exasperation now, combined with wanting to get the whole thing over with. "Mike, you were upset about not getting a loan and-"

"Hey, I didn't ask for pity or excuses. I want to get some truth out of this."

Annoyance. "Well if you keep interrupting me we're not going anywhere."

And so they stood. Glare versus fiery glare. He broke first, closing his eyes and tilting his head up to the ceiling, sighing.

"Geez, Jo, why didn't you just tell me. That was _months_ ago. We've seen each other dozens of times since then."

"Well, I reasoned that…that…uh…" Why _didn't_ she? Where was the speech she'd so prudently prepared? Oh yeah, that went out the window once Mike took control of the conversation first.

"Come on, girl, you can do it." Amusingly, it was she who played the part of the pet in need of coaxing as opposed to him playing the loyal dog. Interesting switch-eroo.

"No, please, insult me more. That'll definitely make me want to talk to you." The reprimand affected him slightly, just enough to make him feel an ounce of shame.

But then he banished that new feeling with conviction as he stated, "But Jo, shouldn't I be the one reluctant to talk to you, considering you lied to _me_, and broke my only rule? Which is, by the way, in case you forgot, **I don't bang anyone who's in a real relationship**."

Yeah….about that….she should leave. Just turn around and go. Should've just deleted him off her contacts the moment he found her in the restaurant…Well, she was never going to see him ever again anyways, might as well get her act together and spit everything out…

* * *

**I wanted to have more of a chapter dedicated to the next part of their conversation as well as fill in another hole or two in their story...so sorry for cutting this off so short. Reviews are appreciated (mainly about sentence fragmenting...I'm trying out this style of picking up the pace of stories with intentionally short sentences...feedback?)**


End file.
